


Fuck My Brains Out

by Anonymous



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Biting, Cussing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, French Kissing, Frottage, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mindfuck, Nonbinary Character, Other, Undressing, Unreliable Narrator, genitalia not included for nonbinary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30118023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sex happens, N is being weird. Heron might be an asshole, but they're not enough of an asshole to leave him to deal with it on his own.
Relationships: N | Natural Harmonia Gropius/Touko | Hilda, N | Natural Harmonia Gropius/Touya | Hilbert
Collections: Kink Lucky Dip





	Fuck My Brains Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/gifts).



Heron throws the ball but the flash of pink’s already gone, darted into the bushes. Those things are impossible. Go in after it and you’d be scratched up to high hell for trying. They’re annoyed. It took a while to track this one down, and it’ll be another few hours to find another one. 

And N, who’s been following them around like a lost puppy, pale and not the least bit worked up, is staring into the bushes at the disappeared flash of pink. He’d been _just so happily_ watching them do all the work. It flares up in their chest. He’s N and they’re being unfair, sure, but there’s a target for their annoyance and he’s stupidly, unfairly prettier for it.

Pale line of his cheek. The curve of his nose, the elegant jut of his chin.

They wonder if it shows on their face as they reach their— ugly, mudstreaked, torn, nothing to show for it— sleeve for him. N only looks bemused as he accepts their hand. N is like that. He stands there, still as an anchor as Heron leans in, the mud not putting him off the slightest. He wraps his arm around them. 

Pressed against the grass, “You’re gorgeous, babe,” Heron says into the boy’s hair. Green, fluffy, when he first saw him it made them think he wore it ‘round his neck like a scarf. They always wondered what it’d be like to bury their face in it ( _tickly_ ), and to touch the neck underneath that mane. Now they can.

N shivers. "You too..."

He’s not yet used to Heron. It’s obvious when every intimate touch sends him spinning. 

That’s why it’s perfect they’ll be rutting like herdier out here. It would be heady if it was just them in a room. It’s overwhelming with them on the ground and passerbys being a few bushes’ line-of-sight away, wild pokémon fleeing, and them trying not to be too loud. 

Heron grins, sinks their teeth into his shoulder. 

N sucks in a sharp vowel of air before chopping off the noise. It comes out as a pityingly adorable squeak.

“Oh yeah, you like that.”

Red faces stand out well against green hair, turns out.

N’s eyes are flicking from them to the bushes, and doesn’t stop holding them to help when Heron tosses their head and starts undoing the buttons down his shirt. 

It’s harder than it looks. And there’s an annoying buzz in their head as they mess up getting the buttons out of their holes. They snap, “Do you make it any harder to undress yourself?”

He’s muttering something similar to an apology but way too spacey, as usual. Heron’s both mad that it’s barely there and that he’s apologizing over something so stupid. 

N is… how would they call it, a bit of a mess. He was good hearted. Too naive for this world and all that. He really, sincerely believed that pokémon could talk, and was convinced that pokémon hated battling and people. It was sad. He grew up in a cult. He wouldn’t have learned any better when Ghetsis just said whatever would make N would be useful to him. No battling, just like how old shakers said no card games or gambling. Pokémon hated it. N had to save them from scary trainers like Heron. 

They lean in close to his chest and feel him tense up, expecting another bite. Heron runs their tongue along the skin there instead, and N shivers from cold instead of pain. 

But they’d changed his mind. In the end, it took one legendary dragon beating another legendary dragon. That’s how pokémon are. They listen to human hearts and battle in accordance to their wills. The pure-hearted attracted strong pokémon by the gravity of their virtue, and in the end, N wasn’t as pure as he’d thought. 

The buzzing in their head is turning into a headache. They grind their teeth together and stifle it down, lacing their fingers with N’s and tonguing his neck and the seams of his shoulders. 

N was unsure, weak and undirected, after he lost. He latched onto Heron so easily. Heron supposes they aren’t surprised. If they’d been born into an insane cult and didn’t have any talent to speak of they probably wouldn’t have anywhere to turn to, either. 

But part of them wonders how N even got Zekrom’s approval. He certainly didn’t have the strength of will for pokémon training and he couldn't keep a team to save his life. 

Heron touches along his chest and N gasps and looks up at them, eyes half-lidded and lying there like a dead fish, the tent in his pants pressing against Heron's body. Hopeless in this, too. 

Ah well. Heron’s happy to show him. 

They brush their arm over his crotch and it throbs faster than a pulsing heart. N’s hands look like they’re going to move to down touch himself-- Heron finds them with their own and pins them down at the wrists. 

N looks up at them, confused and horny. 

“You’re not touching yourself today,” they whisper into his ear.

He stares, shifts. Heron can see the gears turning in N’s head as he gets to understanding.

“Kiss me then,” N asks, demure, angling his head up, lips as sweet as the first time Heron asked him the exact question. Like then, Heron obliges. As they lean close they lean down against his erection, and N groans muffledly into the kiss. 

That buzzing noise won’t stop pulsing in the back of their head, like a tv turned to white noise. Heron thrusts their tongue into N’s mouth and the rocking of N trying to reposition his hips is music-- _thick, rolling, hot_ \-- almost enough to overshadow it.

And yet, when they break apart, N’s as tame as he always is. The fucker. They’ve got a line of saliva stretching between their mouths and he doesn’t even look tired. Just wide-eyed and freaked out and almost ashamed, as if he didn’t literally just ask for this. 

They stay separated like that for too long. Heron’s starting to feel a little bad. He _was_ raised in a cult that was completely wrong about everything. Maybe… maybe something weird about him with sex from that? N’s wrists are still pinned to the ground by their hands, and they’re starting to let up the pressure when N’s hand twists around fast-as-a-tranquill to grab their wrist from below.

He says, “don’t leave me alone to it," and there’s an edge of desperation in his voice. 

Heron… Heron obliges.

N is slowly trying to thrust his hips again and Heron doesn’t tease him this time, letting him rub against their leg. He’s softer than he was before and regaining his arousal. ... Did he come earlier? Did Heron not pay attention and miss it? 

“Heron...” says N, shaking them out of their reverie. He’s looking up at them with the sweetest smile. “Let’s...” He licks his lips. “Let’s keep going.”

Whatever the drop had been, it’s easy to get back into the rhythm of having sex. N finds his footing easily and with knowing what to do Heron starts getting their chill back. They even get into it a little, climbing their hands up to his unresisting forearms for a better grip, and leaning their leg on his hips to rub against the nice feel of his dick. 

Afterwards, they’re left lying over his body, one hand interlocked with his and the other thrown wildly. 

N says something and the only part they catch is “humans”. 

“What?” 

N doesn’t say anything for a bit, and then: “I’ve never done anything like this with people before. I’m glad I could. It’s.... nice, how humans are.”

Their first thought is _you’ve done it with pokemon?_ But before they can say it he keeps talking, and...

“This was nice. I’m glad. I am. Reshiram incinerates those who don’t keep truth in their heart. It was proven, a formula to the hearts of people. Anything else, it isn’t true. You just have to try. Try to be friends, you haven’t, you just need to…”

He doesn’t stop even as Heron gets off of him. He doesn’t even act like he’s noticed. He’s just lying there, wrenching but not lifting his wrists as if they’re held down by invisible chains, his voice drifting in and out of audibility. 

“Accepting different ideas… please… it’s how it works between... Zekrom... how things can be is more important than that... it will... it _will_... they're the same... it's true or not...”

They’re not sure what to do, but what they end up doing isn’t unkind. It’s something they, before today, might’ve thought was embarrassingly soft, but now they can only think of N needing it. They kneel by his side, stroking his hand, telling him it’s okay, and eventually N breaks whatever fever had him gone to the world. 

"You okay?"

He nods.

It takes a bit for him to say anything, but when he finally does it's with his ordinary tireless speed.

"Hey... your dream... remember, before you became champion, when I asked you about the dream you had? I knew you could achieve it then... but even still, I'm happy you were able to. That you got to decide, and I even got to be a part of your dream after. I can't go back." He squeezes his hands into fists for just a moment. "I don't want to."

"Yeah..." they say. There was probably... a lot that happened in his past. That they didn't know of.

N smiles, a little seedling of a smile, and Heron smiles back, and his face stretches into a dumb grin and then they can't stop smiling either. Then smiling dissolves into laughing and they're falling over each other over how funny it is, endlessly, brightly loud. 

It was sad, what they end up remembering later, distressingly sad that something so long ago could afflict him like a haunter's shadow, but after his smile was worth it all, like the sun coming out of storm clouds. Sometimes people had trouble getting over things, but it would end up okay in the end. They won’t even remember the munna.


End file.
